Kitten Love ONHOLD
by TeCHNiCaL-DiFFiCuLTieS
Summary: Matt bought some abandoned kittens. Mello doesn't know about it. Sometimes though, you need just a bit of spontaneity to spark something big. MelloxMatt R&R?
1. The Kittens Arrive

**DISCLAMIER: I do _not_ own anything. Death Note belongs to their own creators, as does Mello and Matt. I don't even own the names of the four kittens. Sad, eh?**

Matt breathed in an out. In and out, a billow of smoke following his every release and intake of air. His lungs, unbekownst to him, screamed for the sweet aphrodisiac of fresh air. But Matt couldn't give up his smoking. Not even for a breath of fresh air. This Camel brand cigarette pack was almost done. Time to go to the store again. And besides, Mello probably needed some more chocolate. The addicted bastard he was. But not yet. Matt didn't want to get out of bed yet. It was much too early. With a sigh, and a roomful of wispy smoke, he turned his neck to the left, cringing as the stiff muscles were being used. 1:43 P.M. Oops, perhaps Matt might actually want to crawl from the confines of his bed. But it was oh warm, so very warm. And after all, the afternoon had just begun. And besides, he doubted Mello would actually be home anytime soon, and the damn blond probably didn't have any use for the red head, and it wasn't like Matt was actually going to do anything today. But he lied to himself a lot. Oh how he lied. But lying was easy. Everyone did it. Plus, yesterday was hard enough. Heh, that almost sounded dirty. With a grunt, he rolled out of bed, slipped on goggles and wrangled with his boots. A striped shirt was thrown over his flesh, the pattern of his clothing choice making him seem even more thin and lanky. Matt did not need that. He was already anorexic looking enough. But man, did that boy eat. He blamed his frail-ness on his metabolism. Mello was even thinner, he consoled to himself, quickly checking in the mirror before running a hand through his matted locks. A brush was on the far side of the room and much to troublesome to get.

Getting dressed had never been harder than today. He was tired, stiff, and hungry. Yesterday, he had sat and watched a computer screen for twelve hours straight, thanks to a request by dear old Mello. Then again, Matt would probably do any fucking thing that Mello told him to do. Because Mello was Mello and Matt was Matt. And you didn't mess with Mello when he was without chocolate and demanding your assistance. Plus, having the cold barrel of a gun shoved against your stomach, or up against your temple, or placed delicately between your eyes was enough to convince anyone. And Matt did feel crazy loyal to him, after Mello was the only one in Whammy's who stood by him. Even after his own parents left him, for God's sake. Not a person in the world could tear Matt away from Mello…unless it was Mello himself. Matt chocked on the Red Bull he was currently downing. No, Mello wouldn't do that. He'd have to have a good reason. The red-headed man-boy was gullible enough to believe almost anything that Mello told him. Almost being the key word. Like for instance, Mello said to never get pets. Matt…Matt had different plans.

The apartment was so dull. Something needed to be done around here. It was so silent too. Matt gulped, feeling the wave of paranoia crash over him, strangling the breath out of him, stealing the sanity, and leaving a scared Matt in its after-wake. A shiver coursed through his spine. Matt had to get out of this apartment. Now. Mello was nowhere to be found, and Matt couldn't stand the creepy crawlies he knew lurked in every corner. The sunlight was harsh on his pale skin, and thank the gods he had a pair of goggles on, or else he would have been writhing on the floor crying out for darkness. Well, maybe not that, but close to it. Matt sure as hell hated anything to do with light, preferring to keep any room he was in with the barest hint of light, because his eyes were extra sensitive and he swore the sun made him itchy.

A kitten. That would be nice, Mello loved cats. Or did he hate them? Matt wasn't sure. He didn't think about it much longer either. The pet shop was only a few blocks away. And the gas station was even nearer. He could pick up some Camel's and some choco bars for Mello. Perfect plan. The car revved up, and Matt jerked the hunk of metal and rubber from its parked position in the apartments parking lot. He vaguely remembered the newspaper saying something about having a small litter of kittens on sale. Hm. Dumb bastards must have left the pregnant cat on the road to fend for herself. Well, Matt could easily handle that.

A good three hours, Matt was leisurely walking down the side-walk, bag in hand, and a small box in the other. In this small box, gray, white, black splotches of color mewed, pathetic and small, begging for attention. Or was it for their mother? Matt couldn't tell. He didn't care to find out either. He threw the bag into the passengers side, laying the kittens box on his lap as the red headed male slid into the door, the loud engine roaring and sputtering a heavy amount of gasoline in the toxic air. He could almost see the lung cancer. "Mello better love me after this." He mumbled, driving home, a cigarette parked between his teeth, the tip light and burning. Matt stepped out, all of his groceries and the precious cargo in his arms, spitting the butt of his cig out in a potted plant right outside the two males apartment. He walked in, turning on all the lights, fearing the worst in every room. Thankfully, nothing of his fear leaped out from behind objects, greedy for his tainted blood. Just some dust bunnies, nothing he couldn't handle.

"Come on, kittens. Come out." Matt cooed, figuring he should hurry up and name the damn things already. Well, Kitten was a good name. So was Cat. And he'd have to name the brown-ish black one Chocolate or something cliché like that to appease Mello. Maybe even make the blond Adonis a good meal for when he came home. But alas, He couldn't decide, the red head was never good with names after all. He would let Mello decide. Another cigarette was lit, and Matt was on his knees, facing the small animals,(four in total) goggles covering his sensitive eyes, and a DS lying not to far away from him. Mello should be home soon. Hopefully by that time, either Mello would be too tired to even care about the bundles of fluff and claws rolling on the floor or love the kittens as Matt predicted.

And hopefully Matt wouldn't get a bullet in his head, and blood spattered against the walls because what a horrible way for number 3 to die.

Matt hoped. He hoped a lot. This time, he really needed that emotion to go far, or else his funeral would be made on that rainy day Sunday that Matt always wished for.  
But Matt doubted Mello would even remember that Matt wanted to die on a rainy day. And Matt doubted that Mello would even hold a funeral service. More like, let the auburn haired teen be autopsied for the sake of "science".

A load of bull shit.

Money was tight, you know? And no one would come to his funeral too, him being an orphan, L too busy, Roger taking care of hoards of children like him. Near…Near hated Matt, and vice-versa. And the blond God would be too busy with Kira. Matt didn't blame him though. A mass murderer was important in the field of detective cases he worked in.

But whatever. As long as Matt died the side kick, in the throes of being alongside Mello, then whatever happened, happened.  
And Matt wasn't going to stop it, because apparently, Mello needed his death for some reason.

Yeah, that's a good excuse. He would go with that.

Matt sighed. It was nearing supper time and Mello still hadn't come back. Hopefully, that damn blond had gotten a job. Finally. Then perhaps, Matt could stop buying easy Mac and get some actual food in this joint. And maybe, Matt could start buying name-brand cereal like Fruit Loops… or Cheerios. Because good cereal made the man, after all. And maybe, they could have eggs and bacon for breakfast, and the milk wouldn't go bad.

The brown kitten, who Matt had dubbed 'Chocolate Puff'(or Puff for short) soon crawled up to him, big round eyes fixated on Matt like he was their mother. Oh God, Matt was terrible with children. He had forgotten this tiny problem. And of course, Matt thought cats were the same as children. And the red-headed boy didn't know what to do but stare down at it with huge eyes himself and pet the male kitten. Hm. This animal…it purred? Maybe….Maybe Matt wasn't such a bad "mother'? These kittens would have to get used to a lazy ass and second hand smoke then. Because not even Mello had the power t sway Matt from such an addictive drug. It was his morphine. It was his other life. The cigarettes that constantly tainted his air-sacks and lung tissue was his other Mello. If that made any sense at all. He presumed it didn't.

Anyway, back to the kittens. Now, the adorable dark gray one had pounced on Matt's jean leg, sending the red-head reeling backwards and yelping like a wounded animal, arms flailing trying to grab onto some sort of life-saving piece of furniture. The couch, luckily, was on his side. Matt's fingers dug into the ratty fabric, making him bang his back against the backside of the couch, his head slamming against the floor as he dropped.

Ouch.

Perhaps kittens had not been such a good idea after all? No, he wouldn't go back on his love just yet. And the dark gray kitten he had named "Dust Bunny" (Because the dust bunnies hidden under the couch scared him to no ends) was currently pawing at his leg and trying to scramble its fat self onto the boys lap. How cute. Matt broke into a lop-sided grin, scooping the kitten up and pressing his nose into the downy soft fur, almost purring himself at the sensation. "Dusty" was soon becoming his favorite.

Oh? And Matt heard another noise, amidst him being trampled and crawled over by a pack of mewling kittens. It sounded…it sounded like a door opening. Perhaps Mello was coming back? Damn. That meant Matt couldn't hide the kittens, nor could he start on their normal Easy Mac with beer for dinner. The door creaked and a slowly opened, which meant the blond was furious.

Shit.

Calm was not in Mello's agenda, Matt noticed throughout the years. And anytime he was calm, something terrible must have happened.

Perhaps kittens had not been the best idea after all.


	2. What's For Dinner?

Chapter 2.

Mello was in the threshold of the doorway now, in all his newfound leather magic. The leather stuck to his body like a second-skin, coating his flesh in the soft material. Two or three inches of stomach was shown and Matt could barely pull his eyes away from the milky piece of tease. Mello was a small man. Tall, lanky, skinny, with just the right amount of ass to make anybody, man or woman, go absolutely cuckoo for Mello. The only muscles Mello had could be seen whenever the man moved, rippling along his forearm and neck, lines taut. The sight of the gorgeous blond in front of him, merely three feet away made Matt's heart stutter and his breath be stolen away. Damn Mello for being so beautiful and making Matt look merely average. Damn Mello for being breath-taking when Matt didn't have enough air to manage normally. Blond hair framed the small face, making Mello's nose seem even smaller, and his lips even plumper, and his eyes even bigger.

More innocent, if you asked Matt. Quickly, in a four second trance, Matt let his eyes roam over the contours of the blond God, relishing in the warmth of not being caught once again. Matt always was the stealthiest one. His face was of pure malice and annoyance. And his facial expression didn't change upon seeing the red-head cross-legged on the floor. No, rather his obsidian eyes narrowed even more and his lips pursed, and the pale coloring of his cheeks flushed an angry red, color blossoming on his face. Uh oh. This was bad news for said red-head, and quickly the teenager scrambled upwards, throwing Dusty off his lap and onto the arm of the couch beside him. The cat screeched and the small claws struck and held onto the fabric of the couch, creating pinprick size holes.

Damn. Something else Mello would yell about.

Finally, Mello spoke. His voice whispering out in the smallest of sounds, straining for Matt to hear even if he was three feet away and standing up, making him even closer to the blond. "What the fuck is this?" He breathed, and Matt almost winced backwards, tasting the anger. "It's a kitten, Mello." Matt replied, amused. It was always nice to be a smart-ass.

"Don't be an ass-hat, Matt." Mello growled narrows his eyes further and taking a step forward towards Matt. Well, that was rude of him. Matt didn't think Mello needed to call him an ass-hat. That didn't even make any sense. "Ass-hat?" Matt asked, laughing a little and scooping up the badly frightened Dust Bunny and holding the kitten close to his chest. "Yes, Matt. Ass-hat." The red-head heard Mello reply, a grimace plastered across his delicate face. Apparently, Mello didn't like to repeat himself. Matt knew this. S'why he did it in the first place. Like he's stated before, being a smart-ass sure was amusing. Sadly, one of the kittens, Chocolate, the only female (imagine that), thought Mello was a rather delectable piece of toy. The small kitten launched itself at Mello's leg, clinging to the leather and mewing furiously, bristles raised. Matt almost 'aww'd before he realized that would be a girly thing to do. Mello would not approve of that. ….Or would he?

After the clinging accident, Mello growled before looking down, his features instantly softening, eyes almost…gentle, the anxious and aggravated lines smoothing to something unreadable. Something…caring. Matt was sure he wasn't supposed to see that. Thank God he was very good at acting and kept his face neutral. The red-head was proud, making Mello melt like that. But he was also…jealous? The kitten seemed to get more attention than Matt was getting himself. "So, you like, Mello?" Matt chimed, leaning in close to pet Chocolate, but instead of petting the animal, he breathed in the scent of dark chocolate in smoky gunpowder, eyes fluttering close for a short moment.

Damn, he could not lose his composure yet. "No, I don't like it Matt. I merely approve of it."

Bull-shit.

Matt smirked, nodding along with Mello. "Her name is Chocolate, in honor of you. Aren't I the smart one? Knowing you would like that kitten the most," Matt teased before continuing, ducking as a fist swung out. "This one in my arms is named Dust Bunny." Matt would not explain why he was called such a childish name, Mello would only laugh then. "And the black and white splotched on is called Milk. You see the white splotches? Those are like the splatters of milk. Get it?" He chirped, pointing out the spots and talking animatedly with his hands. The blond merely nodded an amused smirk hidden on his face. "And the last one, the orange one, is named Sunflower." He trailed off, voice going quiet at his names. Chocolate…Dust Bunny…Milk…Sunflower. Oh God, was he a pansy. Matt only frowned, before beaming at the next action that followed.

Mello reached out a hand that was not continuously stroking the cat, and gently ruffled Matt's red hair, causing small locks of auburn to fall in his pale face. Matt leaned into the digits that massaged his scalp before the hand was pulled away and Mello turned on his heel. "So, Mells, what's for dinner?" He purred, following the blond into the kitchen and taking out two packets of instant ramen. "Apparently some crap ramen." The blond replied, amused and bending down to kiss Matt on the cheek. Matt blushed and rubbed his face like a small child. Yes, it's true. Both of the man-boys were…"Together" in a sense. They kissed on a daily basis, beat each other up on a daily basis, screamed profanities (that was mostly Mello) on a daily basis, and comforted each other on a daily basis. Matt's favorite part of the day was when Mello was so tired he would just flop on the red-heads lap, and Matt would stroke and massage his scalp until the blond was lulled into a gentle sleep. That was the best time ever. "Mello…" Matt whined, grinning from ear to ear.

"You don't have to be so mean. Get a job and maybe we wouldn't be eating ramen." Mello growled and slapped Matt on the back of the head, hard, causing Matt to see flashes of bright light before his vision returned to normal.. "Shut the hell up, bastard. You get your ass up at 7:30 and try to sound polite and respectable. Not fucking easy." Matt snickered, leaning in and trailing his nose along Mello's jawline. "Calm down, Mello. I was joking. You're doing fine." He purred, giving him a kiss before bending down and fluffing up the "thistle hair" Chocolate had. "Cute. She makes you seem human."

"Yeah, whatever. You better not get used to this shit." The blond replied tersely, setting the mewling kitten on the ground and watching with a blank expression as she scampered over to her siblings, roughing up Sunflower. Matt, sadly, noticed the blank glum expression on Mello's face and stepped up, wrapping his strong arms around Mello's thin waist. A waist much too thin, much to emaciated feeling. They needed money. Either Matt was going to have to get a job, or Mello was going to have to get a night job. And that scared Matt, having his feisty blond at some bar or club. And the red-head doubted himself capable of getting a job and keeping it for more than three months, and he was not going to let Mello go out at night and whore himself up on the sidewalks.

"Well, we can talk about this later, Mells. The ramen is about to be done, and I'm starving." He told Mello, trying to lighten the stifling atmosphere, cigarette smoke and awkward tension pressing down on them both like a heavy blanket. Mello growled suddenly and pushed Matt away from him, apparently realizing how much weight he was letting the other male hold. "I'm not hungry." He called, stepping out of the small dimly lit kitchen and into the even smokier living room.

Matt was not hungry either.

With a sigh, he scampered after the blond and caught up right as he went to plant himself on the couch. "Allow me." H purred, taking Mello's waist in his arms again and falling backwards, landing with a dull thump. Mello wiggled slightly in protest but did nothing once Matt pressed his face into the blond's warm neck, hungry for attention. Mello curled himself into a ball and turned around awkwardly to comply with Matt's demands. He trailed delicate kisses along the hunched form, and sucked on his neck a bit; lapping at the small blue bruise he left before nibbling it with his teeth. Blood vessels under the sensitive skin broke, creating an even darker stain upon the red-heads neck, all to Mello's delight. Matt made a happy sound and lifted his head from the warm crevices of Mello's neck and let it loll backwards, inviting the blond to more sensitive skin.

"Do your worst, Mello, I'm not made of glass." And indeed Matt wasn't. Scars, bruises, bite marks, scratches, cuts…they all littered Matt's back, chest, legs, arms…anywhere they could reach. Anywhere they could spread along like spidery veins and scar the milky white skin. Matt had dealt with worse than he remembered, his parents not exactly the nicest bunch, and Whammy's not exactly the nicest kids to Number Three. Especially when Number Three didn't even acknowledge his high standing, didn't even acknowledge Roger's praises, and didn't even acknowledge the other kids envious gazes. No, he was too wrapped up in the much nicer world of reality games. He was too wrapped up in Mario and Luigi adventures, and rescuing Princess Peach. This caused for many a black eye in his younger days.

The blond immediately set to work, sucking harshly on the skin, biting and drawing blood burrowing his sharp canines in the soft flesh before lapping at the blood like a fucking vampire. Matt shifted his hips upwards, a small yelp of pain emitting from his slightly parted lips before a light flush appeared on his prominent cheeks, not all of it from embarrassment. Mello was never gentle, he never noticed the bruises and claw marks littering Matt's arms and back, never noticed the painful whimpers Matt would make when Mello got too rough. Matt would just have to squeeze his eyes shut and take it like the man he was.

It was a good thing Matt didn't mind the rough treatment, or the two would never get along…or having sex at all. And Matt would not stand for that. And sometimes, he felt guilty and gluttonous, tricking Mello into rough sex so Matt could have the satisfaction of being pounded into. Of being filled and content on his Goddamned life. So, Matt didn't feel too terribly guilty sometimes, but right now, all he could concentrate on was Mello's sharp canines, bruising fingers, skin on skin, and the loud moans that came from his mouth. It was scary, how vocal Matt would become, every sound provocative and silently pleasing for more. Harder, they would moan. Faster, they would whisper. Almost to the edge, they would scream. And Mello knew how to read Matt's language.

This is why he abruptly stopped. Matt was being handled too hard, Mello could tell. Matt wouldn't say anything, God no. But the pained look that drifted in and out of focus told Mello enough. "Hey, Matty, snap out of it." He breathed, taking his sweet time to French his red-headed partner into a state of oblivion. Matt, in turn, melted at that skilled tongue, softly sighing his pleasure and slipping out his own tongue to dance with the other hot muscle. Legs wrapped around Mello's torso, fingers scrabbled for a hold on the silky blond locks above him.

Apparently, Matt wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer, even if his state of physical health was in mind.


	3. Friction

Chapter 3

Matt writhed up against Mello, pressing against the other's hot body, trying to create as much friction as he could. Sadly, the sweat that stuck to each other was not giving the delicious rubbing sensation Matt wanted. No, not wanted. He needed. He craved. "Mello…" He breathed, snapping his head back, letting the blonde's teach assault his neck, leaving more hickey's in their wake, a flourish of purple and blue blossoming on Matt's neck. Beautiful, if Mello did say so himself. Matt was much to pale, Mello concluded, biting harder and drawing more blood, making Matt's vision dance with pretty colored lights behind his closed eyes, head lolling back more and going limp on the blonde's arms, totally at his mercy.

Just like Mello liked his dogs. Broken and house-trained.

"Matt." Mello whispered, sliding his hot, moist tongue up the gamers slick chest from where it had momentarily gotten lost in. But it wasn't Mello's fault. Matt just tasted too damn good. "Do you want me to fuck you? Fuck you like no other and make you go blind from the ecstasy? I could, you know. All you have to do is beg." Mello sang, nibbling on the fleshy earlobe before blowing hot air. It was a damn good thing Mello knew how to work his mouth.

Vaguely, through all his body-tremoring mind-shattering pleasure, what other things Mello's mouth could do. He'd find out later. Perhaps in the shower? That seemed a likely proposition. One that Mello could not refuse.

"C'mon, Matt. Just beg. You know how I love to hear you grovel." The blond-headed angel spat, gripping Matt's chin hard enough to leave finger-printed bruises before pulling him into a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing, moans rising, tongues writhing, and more delicious friction being caused.

Matt decided he could die right then and there and be happy.

"Mello, _hahn,_ just f-fuck me, dammit." Matt whined, in his most demanding voice. To Mello, it sounded pretty feeble. Pretty submissive. Pretty seductive. Pretty Matt-like. Shit. He was making himself even harder just thinking about the hot tightness that was Matt's ass hole. Delicious. Mello licked his lips, dipping his head lower, grabbing onto Matt's hips once more, blunt fingernails digging into more soft flesh, crescent shaped moons being carved out like mountains, and blood oozed between the sides, swelling up and coating Matt's bony hip with splashes of red. Even more color. Mello was in heaven.

"M-Mello, _please, _just do something." Matt, by now, was already panting, not having enough breath to support his weak lungs, and his hear t was going into overdrive, nerves heightened, and he was doing more physical activity than he'd done in ages. After all, the continuous moans, wanton shrieks, bucking into the warm hand that was currently palming Matt hard and fast, causing him to hump dry air should the warm feeling be removed. It was a lot of hard work, and Matt was already sweating, covered by a thin sheen of liquid. Mello was more than happy to lick it off for him, dipping his head to encircle on of Matt's pert nipples in his mouth.

Matt shrieked and bucked his hips harder, clashing both their hips bones together in a furious fight for more friction. Matt was sure, somewhere in his hazed mind that, by now, had no semblance of intelligence, that his hips would be ravished in the morning. Cut, bruised, bleeding...just another reminder of the Angel-turned-Devil Mello, himself. Matt could live with it.

"Goddamit, Mello. Don't _stop. _I'll fucking_…_" Matt trailed off again, not having enough energy to waste on mindless chatter while he had something more important to worry about.

Mello smirked. He had left Matt speechless. Another goal in life completed. Mello lapped at the pink nipple, biting in the nub and licking at the hardened edges, almost getting thrown off by Matt's continuous bucking. Mello's other hand, that wasn't too busy palming Matt's hand to leave bruises (had Matt not been as hard as a rock) had attached itself to Matt's other nipple, pinching it and rolling the nub violently, making Matt plead for him to stop. That it hurt. Too much, Matt said. Too damn bad.

"M-Mello. Stop. It hurts. Please…" Matt pushed up weakly on Mello's chest, not making the effort to actually shove Mello away. Because, if he was going to be honest, Matt didn't want Mello to stop. But his chest had been bitten in so many places, teeth marks imprinted, bruises painted lavishly on, blood trickling from nail shaped marks, hickeys covering Matt's neck and collar bone. Oh, how the list could go on. And Matt drank it all up. Drank it like the sick bastard he was. Mello was just too intoxicating to let go. To make him stop would be like throwing out a perfectly good cigarette pack…or three.

Mello smirked, taking his mouth away, relishing the pained whimper elicted from Matt's bruised lips, and hovered over the red-headed boys' face. "You don't mean that. Be serious Matt. You want my dick shoved so far up your ass, you don't even know what's up or down." Matt groaned at this, eyes rolling in the back of this head and bucking upwards, grinding his erection into Mello's. Mello almost lost it then. Almost took Matt without preparation.. Almost bled him dry. Somehow, Mello didn't think Matt would mind.

"Suck on these, my little bitch." Mello playfully said, nipping on Matt's neck lightly, bumping his nose gently into the red-heads jawline and purred lovingly.

This was the reason Matt couldn't let Mello go. So, doing what any other sane person would, Matt took the three finger in his mouth, swirling his moist tongue muscle around the slender digits, letting his eyes slip half-closed, creating a vacuum like suction with his mouth around the fingers, praising himself from the choked whimper he received. Matt delicately nipped at Mello's finger tips, showing just how gentle he could be. Just how gentle Mello _should _be, but won't. Mello growled and reluctantly pulled his fingers away, drawing Matt into another ferocious kiss, Matt swiping his tongue on Mello's full bottom lip, taking his entrance whenever the soft pink ones opened, tasting Mello.

It was odd…you'd think Mello, of all people, would have a chocolate flavor. But all Matt could taste was warmth, bitter sugar, and coffee. All delicious to him. He couldn't get enough of it.

"Dammit, Matt," Mello mumbled in-between kisses, finally breaking away from Matt's addictive mouth, shoving one finger up the red-heads ass, not caring when all the clothes had been shed. Probably when they were too caught up in kissing and drowning in each other to care about anything else... "You're really going to be the death of me, with those kisses." Matt was out of it too much to bother and retort.

Matt was having a very hard time staying focused and conscious. The finger up his ass was constantly moving, and Mello's hot mouth was always switching places, making obscene wet sounds that made Matt absolutely nuts. Or hard. Whichever Mello preferred. Matt cried out faintly, as another finger was added, both digits making the X-rated motion of scissoring his muscles, coaxing them into relaxation. It never really did help for Matt. He was always too nervous, too skittish, too stressed or stiff. That was why he was almost addicted to sex. Then, he could stop and relax. Be consumed by the all powerful soul shattering climax and bask in the afterglow with Mello by his side, his mind too overloaded with pleasure to think about anything. It didn't make any calculations, run any tests, do anything thinking. His brain just functioned his organs, and he hoped to God he would still be able to work the next morning.

"Last finger, _Matty._" Mello purred again, against the milky white paleness of Matt's unscathed hip, nibbling at the bone a bit before adding his third and finale finger. Matt was just too scared for the bigger, throbbing organ to take it's place. "C'mon, Lubov, you're going to have to relax." Mello ground out, using his Russian pet name for Matt. "Fuck, I don't want you bleeding like a pig again. You'd pass out or some shit like that." He wouldn't mention it, oh no. But…Mello was worried about Matt. He had always been the frail one of the two, never eating much and exercising even less. All this rough sex had to do a number on poor Matt's body. Though, each time, he practically begged for it. And Mello was a sucker for begging. Especially _his _Matt's begging.

After a fair amount of stretching, though Mello knew it had done nothing, the blond slid his fingers out, licking his lips at the we popping sound it made, and the pathetic whimper Matt created, writhing slightly against the couch.

Mello took a deep breath, and plunged straight in.

Matt chocked back a silent scream, his mouth wide open and his neck snapped back. His backbone arched up violently, pressing against Mello's hot chest feverently, seeking some kind of reassurance the pain was going to be over. Mello complied, leaning down and suckling gently on Matt's hickey's, unnerving the bruised spots even more, nibbling harsher and harsher as pressed in more, Matt's writhing fitfully and gasping for air. His lungs seemed to stop working.

"M-Matt, fuck. Just relax." Mello hissed into his ear, licking the shell and finally sheathing himself in the tight heat of Matt. "Fuck. When was the last time I ass raped you?" He panted, jokingly, before groaning loudly and clutching to Matt for dear life. "S-So fucking _tight._" Mello was going to have a grand time breaking his Matt once more. Without waiting for an "OK", Mello started to pull out, raising his hips and slamming back into Matt, watching as the red-head shut his eyes tight, biting down on a knuckle, his lips being colored red from the biting. "Open your mouth, Matt. I want to hear you _scream_ for it." Matt was panting, gasping, yelling incoherent obscenities for Mello to stop, to let him get his bearings, to let him at least have some time to recuperate. And yet, Matt was also screaming at him to hurry up, because his sweet spot was just a little farther. Just a little harder pounding into, and cranked up a notch in speed, because without that, it was fucking torture.

"F-Fuck, Mello. W-" Matt broke off, screaming garbled noises that sounded strangely like "Harder" and "Faster" and "Mello".

Mello had found the prostate.

"Harder Mello. You're going too soft." He would beg, grinding up against Mello with the passion of ten men, just trying to get his leaking member some kind of attention. Pre-cum dripped from the head, coating the throbbing organ in a silky sheen of sticky liquid, and a pearlescent glow. "Faster, Mello. Or I'll fuck myself." Matt did just that. He summoned up enough strength in his famished body to impale himself on Mello's dick, moaning hoarsely in delight, impaling himself again, and again, as Mello watched with a sick fascination as Matt physically hurt himself for the sake of blinding pleasure.

Mello would have done the fucking same.

"Touch me, Mello. It hurts. Please, I'm _begging _you. P-Please…" Matt continued pleading quietly, when his voice wasn't being occupied by moaning Mello's name, or screaming to go faster, whimpering when it was much too hard, and yet he still ached for more. Mello was only too eager to comply. He always did love how much of a whore Matt became.

A slim hand wrapped around the throbbing organ, coating what wasn't covered in pre-cum, licking it off his hands slowly while staring precisely into Matt's direction, and he grinned. Finger clutched his dick, rubbing fast and switching to slow, like a pro, before Matt was telling him to stop, that he was falling over the edge. Mello was too, and they came together, breathy moans and arched backs, chest pressing against each other before Matt fell atop Mello, his head lolling into the arch of his neck, panting and gasping for air that wasn't hot sticky and smelled like sweat. Trembling, flushed, and exhausted.

Orgasm.

Probably one of Mello's most favorite feelings. It left you in a beautiful warm wake, that let you drift in and out of sleep, and you could spend it(usually) with the one you loved. Matt was currently ontop of him, his mass of sweaty, knotted hair was blocking Mello's view, but he didn't mind. Infact, he loved it. Matt was also heavy, being all dead weight, but Mello welcomed the comforting weight, and pressed closer, addicted to the warmth the other male owned.

"Mello, just sleep here, tonight. Don't go anywhere tomorrow. We can have the day to ourselves. Just stay until I wake up, please." Matt mumbled, his tongue far too thick and big for his own mouth. He felt like he'd been given a numbing shot at the dentist, and the chemical was just beginning to fade, leaving Matt with a leaden tongue and a mouth full of pain.

Except this time, it wasn't pain. It was exhaustion, and it ate at the corners of his conscious mind, the Sandman's voice was calling him. Matt wearily shifted, trying to keep himself awake before Mello replied with a mumbled 'Yes, I promise.' And that was the end of it.

Matt could finally walk into the Sandman's palace and let comforting sleep take him, leaving butterfly kisses up and down his love's neck, murmuring sweet nothings that he wouldn't remember or make sense of the next morning.

And in that moment, before Sleep came, before he was truly gone, Matt decided to get a job.

For their sake, and the kittens.


	4. Not Who I Used to Be

**DISCLAIMER: **Ack! I'm so sorry for not adding any disclaimers. ; Anywho, Mello and Matt do not belong to me, or else Death Note would have a whole different meaning. ;D Also, I would like to thank any and all people who reviewed me. You all mean the world to my story and I, and it keeps me wanting to add more. ^^; So again, thank you. Also, a very happy birthday to Mail Jeevas…. Even if his birthday was a few days ago xP

By the time Matt had woken up, Mello was gone. Matt sighed, and groped around blindly for a cigarette, because he had yet to open his eyes. The darkness was cold and forgiving on his sensitive eyes, while the light was harsh and unrelenting. Something Matt didn't want or need so early in the damn morning. He guess, by his natural body clock, it was around 10:30 in the morning for Mello usually was out the door by 10. Matt didn't blame the feisty blond though, because he reasoned Mello must have tried to stay in, but he got jittery, you know?

Always had to move and keep doing something. Matt wondered why they didn't have more money if Mello was always out looking for "jobs" like he said he was. And the Kira Case was hot on their trails, both of them.

This frightened Matt to no extent, and he sucked greedily on the nicotine, eyes fluttering close and chest deflating like a balloon. He felt his worries wash away, like he was getting rained on, and the pure cleansing rain was washing away his troubles. Often, Matt would sit and think about what it would be like to jump in a pool of water and come out completely new and clean.

He would be handsome enough to not look terrible next to Mello, and he wouldn't have the beginning of emphysema, or eve worse, lung cancer. And then, his hair would be neatly brushed and fixed, not this bird nest of knots and tangles hat his fingers jus couldn't brush out themselves.

And maybe, the Kira Case would be behind them, and maybe just maybe, both Mello and himself could live normally and happily. Though, if he were to be honest with himself, Matt knew Mello could not just sit and let life pass him by. Matt would give almost everything up to go to sleep and stay asleep for the rest of his life. Matt was _tired_. He was tired of everything. Tired of the cigarettes, tired of not being remembered, tired of not having warm showers, tired of not getting enough sleep, tired of the fake sex Matt knew he had created last time in the embrace of Mello, only adding to his second addiction, and this one he knew, could not be dropped. At all. Anything with Mello was like the blood in his veins. He physically had to have it.

And Matt was exhausted of the many people tailing him and Mello, of the failures he'd done, of the many computers and data bases he had to hack because that was the only damn thing Mello kept him around for. Without his amazing computer skills and superb thievery, Mello would have tossed out Matt long ago. Because Matt found out that Mello no longer cared for anything of this past, already telling Matt to forget about Whammy's because that was long ago and no one cared anymore.

Well, Matt cared about Whammy's. He often wondered if any other little kids would be smarter than Mello and himself. Smarter maybe, than even Near, though Matt doubted this. For even L wasn't as smart as Near. Or so Matt assumed. Because L was stupid enough to get killed, and so far, Near was still alive and kicking.

Much to Mello's displeasure. Matt had no respect for L, as one could immediately see. L was just another man Matt could be afraid of, a small memory from long ago. Matt hadn't seen L in so long…only seeing the insomniac a few times in his time at Whammy's. The man meant nothing to him, and everything to Mello.

He was jealous even, of all the attention Mello gave L. I mean hell, Matt was risking his ass to help Mello, when all Mello wanted to do was avenge _L. _To show the world he was better than _L._ Because God, Mello was better than _L._

Matt made a small whine of displeasure as his cigarette burned to the filter, and with a morbid sense of curiosity, Matt plucked his lit part of the his cigarette and placed it on the junction on the inside of his elbow. It hurt, God how it hurt, but the pains stole Matt's breath away, and he did nothing but make aching noises and rock back and forth, not bothering to take the burning cherry from his skin and relieve his pain.

No, this pain was too good. It made him forget momentarily everything that was wrong. From Near being number one, to Mello not caring enough, to L and his stupid legacy, to the Kira Case and some bastard trying to be God. For a single moment or two, Matt was in nothing but fiery pain and he loved it.

Maybe this was why people cut themselves, to bask in the glory of oblivion and forget everything else. Once the red-hot tip was taken away, Matt looked down at his wound and slowly breathed out, his vision going blurry with unshed tears and from staring much much too long. The whelp was a very dark red, with blood oozing from the torn sides and swelling up around the round shape. His skin bad been burnt, and it smelled terrible. Hopefully Mello would not catch Matt with his newfound obsession. It was almost like way back in Whammy's, when he would angrily punch at the walls to just see the nasty colored bruises that would blossom on his knuckles. That was the first time Mello left.

When Matt was only fourteen, and oh so close to becoming a high and mighty fifteen year old. Shortly after, Matt left the orphanage and went to live on the streets, doing quite well for someone of his age and size. He lived for about six months on only stealing what he could eat and run with before he got a hold of a laptop and started hacking into every available account he could. Of course, he had prices to pay once this team of bad-ass techies found out what he could do. After that, it was history.

And for some reason, Matt had a terrible feeling in the pit of his gut that told him Mello wasn't going to come back. Not this time. Not when Matt fucking needed him the most. Not when Matt had four kittens to take care of like they were his own children. Mello was sick bastard, Matt knew, and he probably planned this time to leave. And who knows? This could be a test for Matt. To see if he can survive however long Mello decided to leave for. To see if Matt could raise four baby kittens into something Mello would regret. Damn. Matt should have named the kittens Simba, Mufasa, Scar, and Kovu. That would show Mello.

You do not mess with Matt's pride and get away with it. His kittens might attack you or something.

Matt could also tell, because not one thing of Mello's clothing was left, and upon further inspection when Matt decided to roll his thin ass out of his couch, a small envelope of money was resting on the small dinner table. A beautifully written "Matt" in red cursive plainly screamed at the red-headed boy that this money was indeed, for him.

Mello was really coming back. This caused for another emotionally breakdown. This caused for many a more burns racing up the inside of his arms, painting them with all kinds of colors, creating a sickly rainbow right there on his skin. A work of art, if one was disturbed enough to call it such, Red, blues, blacks, pinks, they all dotted his flesh like constant reminders of "_You're not good enough, dickweed. Get a real job and find me. I hate you. Get away from me. Mello didn't want you. You're not good enough, number three. No one wants you."_

It fucking hurt. In every kind of pain imaginable. Physically, mentally, emotionally, it burned him. It clawed at his soul with talon of unimaginable sharpness and length, creating long narrows scars Matt didn't think he could fix.

Matt hadn't been hungry in a while, doing nothing more than sucking down his Red Bull and the random energy bar before going back to his cheap cigarettes. His game collection steadily got weaker, because you could only pawn them off for so much money, right?

And the kittens constantly mewled, until one day Matt couldn't handle it and threw one across the room and curled into a tight ball, sobbing hoarsely and tearing at his auburn tinged scalp, damning then entire world for leaving him. Damning Mello for being such an ignorant jackass that he had to fucking leave on him. Damning the kittens for wanting so much food when Matt didn't have the energy or money to do anything!

Matt just wanted to sleep, and yet the higher deity of before wouldn't let him. The higher deity of a few months ago that gave him the ability to ignore the constant pain in his heart decided to be a haughty bastard and make Matt miserable.

It had been so many month since that lonely time on the couch, when he'd woken up alone and cold, wanting nothing more than to sleep and a cigarette.

Now he was practically homeless and begging the landlord to let him stay just one more night, he'd have the payment in by next week, he swore! Honestly, he thought the landlord took pity on him and let him stay for free until times got hard enough that he actually needed the cold green cash.

Everything was so cold now.

He hadn't been full in a long time, he noticed, staring down at the cold cereal in his lap before pushing it away sickly and curling up in another ball.

Everything was painful.

Even the cigarette burns on his arms couldn't bring the blissful oblivion he once ached for.

And then, his cell phone rang. Matt should have known from the moment he looked down at the bleary front screen and it had been a restricted number, that it wasn't good.

He should have known that this one phone call would be the end of him, and the absolute best thing that he'd ever been through.

He should have known that this one phone call would bring hi more heartache than he'd had before.

He should have known to never answer restricted phone calls.

Good things never came from them. And guess who decided to fucking pay a visit on his cell this time?

That bastard Mello.

Yes, the one Matt loved.


	5. Your Face

**DISCLAIMER: **Alright, I give this chapter's "Mello" all the credit to my friend. She was the one who role-played him out in the wee hours of the morning. So of course, she gets the credit. And of course, I do not own Death Note nor do I own Matt and Mello.

Duh.

**A/N: **Right, well. This part will be split into TWO parts because it's so long. O__o; Hope you enjoy it, or at least try. And yes, the kittens will be back.

"_Matt, I need help."_

"…_." Matt choked back a scream and in turn pressed down on the cigarette burns along his arm, hissing under his breath a moment before replying to Mello with a wavering voice._

"_What the hell, Mello? You think you can run out, leave me for months, and then call like nothing happened?"_

_Matt was pissed. No, furious. He was livid. And scared. And happy. And he wanted Mello back, and wanted his arms to be flawless again so Mello wouldn't make fun of him in the off-chance the blond looked down and noticed the obvious burns and scars._

_Mello chocked back a whimpering sob before talking again. "Matt, I exploded a building. I'm fucked up. I need your help…or I'll __**die**__." Mello whispered this last part, and Matt wasn't sure if he didn't have enough courage to actually admit to himself that Mello was indeed not immortal and could die. Or, if Mello was just too exhausted to finish his sentence with any gusto and left it to the fate of Mail Jeevas._

_The man in turn, opened his mouth to say something, but Mello sobbed from across the phone line, the sound a broken static blur and Mello continued. "It hurts, Matt. I hurt. I can't open my eyes. IT stings, and I'm bleeding. It hurts, Matt. God you don't know." Mello whimpered, and Matt broke down and died for Mello on the inside. Nothing was worse than seeing or even hearing Mello in trouble or hurt. "Tell me where to go, Mells. I'll be there as soon as I can."_

_Mello almost laughed in joy, had he actually been able to conjure up enough energy and optimism to make such a forbidden noise. Instead, he only sobbed again and let the phone slip from his numbing fingers, and it landed with a small clatter on what was left of the floor. "Turn on the damn news, fucker. You'll see where I am." Was all Matt heard before the dial tone jolted him back to where he was, and Matt noticed that he needed a shower and some new clothes._

_And damn if he didn't have the time._

_Matt donned his furry vest and sped out of the apartment, not even wanting to think about the shape he was in. He probably smelt a bit, as his apartment reeked of second-hand smoke and what other odors reached his level. And, he probably didn't look his best, hair a freaking mess, the inside of his forearms all burned and covered with large blisters. And he looked freakishly pale, large bags under his dull green eyes._

_Matt looked dead, in a sense. But not half as bad as what Mello looked like, as Matt pulled the car up to the smoking building and frantically called out Mello's name, forcing himself not to break down into soft sobs. Mello was halfway buried, and his face…oh God his face._

_Matt turned and retched in the pile of burning cinder a few feet away from him._

Matt looked down at Mello and sighed. He needed a cigarette. Badly. Damn Mello and his stupid decisions. Damn Mello and the bomb. And damn him for being so out of it he didn't even realize that Matt was taking care of him. That Matt was back to help, like always. Like they were both kids again. "Come on, Mello. Let's get you cleaned up." He mumbled, tuning his vivid curiosity in turn for soothing words, and soft caresses to his unburned back before taking a deep breath and planning his next move. Puss, ash, soot, grime, blood and what other liquids caked Mello's body now stuck to Matt's hand like the black plague. It was sickening. The auburn haired youth hoisted Mello onto his chest, arms locking under his knees and wobbled to the bathroom. Matt almost cried again, the dead weight of all that was Mello crushing his blisters and popping some of them, for he could feel the liquid run down his arms, creating lines of goose bumps. Matt wasn't sure if the blisters were filled with water or blood. Either way, it created his long sleeved shirt even filthier and left Matt trembling in pain.

The bathroom felt like a forever mile away. And finally, when Matt though we would actually have to unleash his cry of pain and feel the maybe wrath of Mello, he kicked open the door and fell down into a slump against it. Mello groaned and shifted weakly in Matt's arms. Mat gently set the broken blond on the floor, carefully looking away from his face and drawing water for Mello's bath. The water Matt had drawn for Mello was lukewarm, enough to kill most germs but not scald the overly sensitized flesh. Matt would have a panic attack and die if he hurt Mello anymore. That was the last thing on his mind. Having done that, the auburn haired man turned away from the running water and looked over at his friend and secret lover. He would have to remove Mello's clothes, it seemed. Fuck. This was going to be a wild ride. No pun intended, he added onto his amused thoughts, bending down to star on his next task.

The youth peeled away Mello's leather vest, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he saw the burns continuing. He felt like gagging now, again. Mello had been hurt. A lot. Matt wondered how Mello was even alive anymore. The pants came next, Matt forcefully ripping them from Mello's legs they were so glued on. "Mello, I'm going to clean you up, okay?" His voice held on the slightest tremor. And that could be because Mello was naked in front of him. Yes, **naked**.

Words were blurted out to ears that couldn't possibly catch the finer syllables, the stressed sounds. Nothing made more sense than gravy instead of gravity. Mello groaned a bit, quietly, an almost questioning air to the utterance. Dark blue eyes drifted, their gaze unable to meet something to glue them to the spot. The young man didn't have a clue what was going on. The whole situation was a blur. He barely knew who he was. Mello. That much, he could still tell.

Blonde hair was glued to his dirtied skin by dried, crimson-turning-russet colored blood. Blood. Yes, blood was splattered over the young man's body, everywhere there happened to be a burn or wound.... and then some. Every now and then, the L-hopeful grimaced, lolling his head back in agony as a wound was agitated, as his raw skin was bothered to the point of making him want to _scream._

But scream he could not. Mello hadn't the energy for more than grunts, moans, and groans... and the occasional, one-or-few-worded sentence. Amongst the frenzy of mixed sensations, there was one statement he could grasp. A voice. Words. It was a comment easy enough to understand, Weakly, the ex-Mafia member nodded his consent.

God, how he wished he knew what was going on.

Matt looked down at Mello and sighed, "Do you even know who this is, Mello? I'm Matt. Your best friend." Matt was more than likely talking to himself, because the blond didn't seem to know which way to look, and his head kept falling on Matt's shoulder, and Matt would grimace every time because Mello was not supposed to be this weak. But that was okay, because talking to himself helped Matt ease his nerves and not wish so much for a fucking cigarette. Carefully, and with shaking fingers, Matt took hold of Mello's chin and turned his face sideways to look at the burn closely. It was bad. Bad, bad, bad. "Mello, gasp if it's too hot." And the youth hoped to God Mello would listen to him. Mat would simply die if Mello's wounds got infected.

And dammit, looking at Mello's body was not helping the situation. He blushed heavily and swallowed, picking up the broken body and carefully placing it in the tub of water, grabbing a soap bar and leering over Mello like a predator. His lips...they looked soft. Pink, small, and oh so kissable. Matt could make Mello his right now...No, no time for such thoughts. Things needed to be healed.

Mello's eyes focused in a moment's time, staring in the auburnette's pair, or rather, through them. His gaze was hallow; open, but not seeing. The image that made itself known to the young man was familiar. Trying ever-so hard, Mello squinted, an action that took all of whatever dregs of strength he had left. "M... Matt....?" His voice cracked slightly, as his throat was dry as a bone, only wet with caked on blood. Apparently, Mello had enough sense about him to realize "Hey, It's my best friend!"

The chocolate addict didn't understand much of what was said, only catching onto the name "Matt". (A familiar name indeed. Didn't he know a Matt? The boundless questions knew no bounds, only causing further confusion.) Albeit he was told to "gasp if it's too hot", Mello could have never prepared for the immediate shock of water in the bathtub. He screamed; a mixture of a shriek and a strangled moan. Not exactly a gasp.. but close enough.

Matt jerked back, oh so very surprised at the noise. It wasn't even human. What...what was that? Matt didn't know but it was...arousing? Yes. Something like that. But it hurt him, for Mello to be in pain. "Jesus fuck on a stick, Mello." He breathed, dragging Mello out of the water, already breathing heavy. A cold sweat has broken out and he was shaking again. "I'm sorry, Mello." He mumbled, lathering his hands in soap and cleaning the blonde's hair first, that part was the only part that didn't hurt, he guessed.

Matt wanted to hear that sound again. It was enticing, addictive. This time thought, it would be in pleasure. Or so Matt hoped. He had wandered off into LaLa land, something he did a lot these days since Mello left (he secretly wondered if ADD was involved). He swallowed and calmed his breathing, washing the soap from Mello's hair. The blond boy was in his lap. Naked…near a very important part of his body. God help him. Blood was in the water. It was disgusting. It tainted the clear liquid red, and stole Matt's attention once more.

Matt had to stop thinking about these things.

Mello was fucking hurt, and here Matt was getting hard from hearing Mello in pain.

What the hell was wrong with him? Matt took in another breath and looked down at the naked, bloody, bleeding, burned body in his lap.

Good God it would take a lot to keep from getting aroused.

Mello inclined his head the direction of Matt's fingers instinctively, tired, subconsciously craving comfort and non-harmful touches. He was reduced to a sack of dead-weight in his friend's lap, unable to do much other than look around and open his mouth to emit sounds and incomprehensible words. He moaned a quiet whimper, nothing more than a few soft, broken sounds that choked their ways out of his throat. He didn't need to be conscious to realize pleasure when he felt it.

: Intense blue eyes turned their gaze upwards, looking up at the man tending to him. They were narrowed once more, as it trying to study Matt's face, trying to recognize him. ".... Ich weiß... Ihr Gesicht ..." Huh. He didn't remember /trying/ to speak in German. The oh-so very quiet words came out under Mello's breath.

"_I know your face."_


	6. Broken

**DISCLAIMER**: Alright, I don't own Mello, Matt, or any other Death Note characters. If I did, well there would be a lot more of Matt, MelloxMatt, and a lot less of Near. ;D

**A/N: **This chapters "Mello" also belongs to my friend. Hope you enjoy, yeah? Review and rate. Plz and thank choo 3

**-xXx-**

Matt didn't know what the hel he was doing and why he was enjoying it.

Maybe because Mello was finally beneath him in a sense.

Maybe because if you had anyone on your lap, naked and absolutely gorgeous, that you had no other choice but to get excited.

Maybe it was because Mello wasn't pushing him away in disgust, that maybe Matt could live with himself afterwards.

Or maybe it was because Mello was so weak, and finally, finally, Matt could do whatever the hell he wanted and no consequences. Because Matt did plan on shooting Mello up with so much pain killers, he was nothing more than a pile of drooling blond hair.

And Matt wondered, in the only sane part of his mind that was becoming decreasingly less and even more annoying, why in God's name he had accepted to blond back so easily.

Why he was going to put up with so much more torment, and more pain, and more torture. And maybe, he would have to put up with Mello leaving again after he got better.

The red-head decided, as he shifted Mello's dead weight in his lap to get a better seating arrangement, that Matt would take back him any day.

Mello was, as cliché as he dared it sound, his drug.

Matt felt the slightest move of Mello's hand and let the soap-sudded fingers trail down to his face, lightly washing the unburt side finding it was rather unscathed. Unlike the rest of Mello who was bruised, broken, limp, dead looking. Matt was in charge. He had decided that yes, that was probably the reason. Mello was his best friend. But those sounds, it went straight to his groin, face heating up more and Matt looked away before bending closer to Mello, curling around him protectively. The gentle washing continued, his blush rising even more. He was nearing Mello's chest now. "M-Mello, hold still." Was that his voice? It was raspy. It sounded like it had been unused for an entire two days. Must have been the testosterone. -c-

The youth couldn't help but grin and stare down at Mello's eyes. They were glossy, unfocused, but such an intense color it made Matt want to wince away and hide himself. Because it felt like Mello was looking through him, and it scared Matt. Scared him more than the fact that Mello was hurt. Scared him more than the fact that he might get his lights punched out if Mello ever became more conscious. It scared him because he knew Mello saw what he was doing. What he was trying to hold back. "Know my face? You should. I'm your best friend." German was not his forte, but he knew a bit. Fingers working in gentle circular motions on Mello's collarbone and chest, washing the dirt and grime away. Goddammit, Mello's voce was going to drive him insane.

"Hn..." Mello weakly looked back down and relaxed (if he further could) in Matt's arms, placing the unburned cheek against Matt's shoulder, There wasn't much more that he could do besides "hold still". A weak, breathy laugh escaped Mello's mouth, a smirk playing on his lips. "... Trying...." He mumbled, a one-worded response to attempt to show the other genius he was conscious enough for at least a few words. Trying... Trying was all he could do. It was all he did do, all he presently did, and all he would ever do.

The blonde let loose a quiet moan. (A _real_ moan, of the sexual like that almost sent Matt reeling) God, when was the last time he had consensual sex? Or fondled with anyone who /hadn't/ paid him to do so? Mello couldn't recall, but instead to semi-consciously indulge in whatever was going on with this Matt guy. His supposed best friend... right? But that was alright, his half crazed mind concluded, because Matt wasn't doing anything to stop this.

And Matt had been the one to save him, so he would be the one to decide what was going to happen next. Whether Mello lived or survived.

Now, really, he couldn't care less. The pain was insane, and he smelt terrible, but Matt was gentle, and Matt smelled like smoke and soap, and Matt was doing all he could to get Mello clean.

He'd literally given Matt his life. And, Mello would do it again. Any day.

Matt shivered and bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling before grabbing the washcloth and dunking it in the dirty water before cleaning off the soap. Mello was sorta clean now, streaks of liquid rolling down Mello's flat chest, leaving clean lines in their wake. "Do you _want _me to rape you?" Matt mumbled to himself, his face was so, so close to Mello's. Matt's lips were parted slightly, 'cause he found it hard to breath with Mello around. His hand was working it's magic once more, massaging Mello's burned shoulder even with more gentle care. He, after all, had always been good with his hands.

But more importantly, Mello's lips were only an inch or three away from Matt. His eyelids slipped closed and Matt unconsciously nuzzled into the unhurt shoulder, wallowing in all that was Mello. He was back. Matt would make him stay. A soft kiss was planted, no more than a brush of his lips before Matt was again washing and cleaning and massaging, hoping to hear more of Mello's tiny sounds. He'd drink them up, and not care that he was pretty much a psycho path now. It was alright. Mello would take car eof him, after he got better. Matt wouldn't have to be so crazy. Things would go normal again. Matt was desperate, he could tell. His mind going ninety miles an hour. Because, dammit, he didn't do hell to deserve this.

But Mello always ended up breaking Matt.

Mello snickered, somewhat amused by the question. He shrugged, not really understanding the implications of rape, sex, and anything of the kind in the present. "Es ist... keine Vergewaltigung... w-wenn es consentual." He was sure that if he was fully conscious, fully aware of his surroundings, he'd be 1) taking back what he just said. 2) And 'what-the-fuck'ing at why at why German was so much easier to speak in at the moment.

The blonde sighed with some difficulty, finding it hard to breathe as Matt's lips found their way to his skin. Mello shifted a bit in his friend's hold, tensing ever-so slightly at the additional touches, Why the hell did this feel so_ good_? Mello had the underlying feeling that this was so very, very wrong. This was bad, his groggy, confusing conscience seemed to scream at him. But, Mello paid no heed, continuing to moan at the feeling of Matt's fingers against his skin. It was, those soft touched, and Mello basked in them all. Because he knew, oh he knew, they wouldn't last long. Matt was going to be vivid tomorrow morning.

Fucking livid.

His fingers started to knead rather painfully into Mello's skin, his other hand preoccupied with washing Mello's hair out determined to have it in that perfect golden color he had last remembered. All that was propping Mello up now was Matt's lap and his chest. He hummed to himself, the Zelda theme song and chuckled softly at Mello's words. "That makes me think you actually wanna get sexed up by my." He purred, leaning down again to nibble at Mello's neck, his eyes going unfocused. This feeling...whatever it was...was much to addicting for Matt to keep down. Ad it hurt that he couldn't be rougher with Mello. But God forbid he hurt his best friend again. Besides, Mello needed the gentle washing. But Matt on the other hand was blushing, flustered, and thought that it was much too hot in the bathroom for a naked God to be sitting on his lap.

By now, most of Mello's chest had been cleaned off, and the aubrunette cringed as he set to work back on Mello's abused shoulder. He could feel the burns under his fingertips. Extra gentle kisses were scattered on Mello's neck and unburned face. "...Sorry if it hurts." He breathed near Mello's ear, hating himself for enjoying this.

Mello moaned louder as the pressure on his raw skin increased from pleasurable to painful, he clamped onto his bottom lip with his teeth like he would do to a chocolate bar, trying to keep himself from crying out. He permitted Matt more room to brush his lips against his neck and gently bite at the gently skin there. "You.... hn... you _think_?" Mello smirked, his blue eyes directed back at the auburnette. "... You're supposed to... be a g-genius... You should... know "know", moron."

But the blonde wouldn't let Matt think it hurt too much. Semi-consciously, he didn't want this to stop. Au contraire, he want to take this as far as it could go. As _hard_ as it could go, despite his current situation. Weakly, Mello brushed his own lips against Matt's as they drew near, his glossy, dark blue eyes half-lidded. "Don't be sorry.... I like it." Mello, sadly, was now tired of the gentle kisses. He wasn't used to the gentle treatment. He wasn't used to such kindness being bestowed on his fucking black heart.

Because Mello didn't deserve it. And so therefore, wouldn't take it.

"Moron? That's nice. Here I am taking care of you, and I'm a moron." He teased softly, not being able to raise his voice any high, lest it drop off mid sentence with a groan of his own. But man. Mello could make some damn beautiful sounds. And Matt wanted more. Just another addiction to add to the growing pile. Cigarettes, Red Bull, Games, Mello, Mello's noises…. He was a psychopath, seriously. Matt bit down harder, burying his teeth into the soft skin of Mello and licked at the bruised skin. A punishment, you could say. His fingers though, slowed their rough massaging. Mello didn't need that much.

But what happened next blew everything away for Matt. Mello has responded to him. Had actually not attempted to wiggle from Matt's grasp and run away gagging like any normal human being should have. And that face. Damn if that face wasn't going to be the death of him. It was sultry and bad ass, complete with a melted face. Matt wanted more of it. Do anything to get it. He groaned himself, pressing his face into Mello's neck before raising it and looking at Mello with filmy eyes, goggles being taken off long ago earlier in the cleaning stage. "You'll hate me tomorrow." He breathed, leaning in and taking Mello's lips for his own, tongue sliding past his bottom lip. -d-

In the rush of things, Mello felt some of his strength return to him. Weakly and _almost_ awkwardly due to the lack of clothing on his part, he reversed his position on Matt. He now sat on the auburnette's lap, facing Matt, his legs splayed on each side of the gamer. He was straddling his best friend? If he were fully aware.... To hell with being fully aware. His thoughts were cloudy, muddled--he wouldn't let rational thought get in the way of a longs night's fun. The chocolate addict wouldn't have it.

The blonde tilted his head slightly, opening his mouth for fuller access for both. He was on automatic, doing what he had done for money quite a few times over while still in England. This, however, wasn't for money. This was for sheer enjoyment, and therefore, worth more than those shameful nights could ever amount to. Ignoring the burns and bruises and wounds screaming in pain, Mello found himself slinking his arms over Matt's shoulders for a better hold. "... Tomorrow never comes, Matt. Understand?" That was all he said in reply before allowing his mouth to be taken by the goggleless teen yet again.

Matt rolled his hips against Mello, feeling him turn slowly to face him. Mello moved to slow, and the chair, or whatever he was on now hurt. The floor was much more comfortable. Now how to get down there? Right. As smoothly as possible. Matt kept Mello's mouth busy, cupping both hands around Mello's ass and lifting up slightly before kneeling on the floor. Mello was underneath him, and Matt would vaguely feel arms around his neck securing the broken teen in place. A knee was moved right under Mello's crotch, and Matt pulled away briefly.

"You're hurt, Mello. Dammit." He growled, the options running through his mind again, eyes already too much un-focused for his own liking, the blood in his veins was much too heated. So much arousment. This wasn't right! "Mello, think about this. You'll be in so much pain." He whispered softly, sliding a tongue around the shell of Mello's ear and nibbling on the earlobe. Both his hands massaged Mello's stomach, trying to gain some sort of comfort. He grinned, and sighed hotly. "I'll agree. Jesus Christ you're demanding." Hips rolled again, this time, Matt believed he could live with himself.

Mello hardly noticed the change in position until his felt the cool surface of the fake plastic bathroom tile against his back, he moaned into Matt's mouth, busying his own. Curiously, he cast a glance downwards. Matt's knee was below his crotch? Against it? How awkward. That definitely wouldn't do... much. That is, much until it started moving. The blonde sent an almost defiant scowl up at Matt, recognizing torture when he felt it.

bluesisterlove: "I'll be fine... I'm sturdy, right? What's... a little more pain?" He smirked, masking his uncertainty with perfection. He couldn't make the decision based on logic. His common sense screamed 'NO! SAY FUCKING NO, MIHAEL. YOU CAN DO IT. N-O. NO. NEIN. NEGATORY. HELL NAH.', but Mello was as good as drunk--/deaf/ to the little voice in the back of his head. "Just do it, Matt."

"Tch. I'm just trying to help you." He mumbled again wiggling from his own striped shirt and threw it against the bathroom door where it hung unceremoniously on the doorhandle. Really, one would think stripes would be his fetish too. Hm. Matt wasn't so sure about that. He did like stripes but it wasn't so much of a fetish thing than it made Matt look tall and even more lankier to begin with. "Just do it? Sounds kinky, Mello. What did the mafia do to my sweet Mihael?" He purred, egging Mello on with the use of his real name before biting down on Mello's neck, lapping greedily at the blood. His hands slithered down, fingers making random designs on his flushed skin before they dug into Mello's skin, small crescents as proof.

"You want me to just do it, Mello?" Matt smirked, finally jerking his head away from the addictive neck and looked down at Mello, an unhealthy(and probably not very nice) glint in his eyes. "I'll make you scream, princess~" And Matt could. He would. Matt was indeed very good at teasing. His knee pressed down again, giving Mello even more pressure and friction then he probably deserved. But Matt liked it anyway, so to hell with waiting.

Mihael. Me-hail. Someone else had said it. For the second time that day (or had twenty-four hours already passed?), his real name had been uttered. The blonde grew still, staring at Matt with wide, nearly frightened, glossy blue eyes. How did he know? Why did he think he had the right to call him that? Numerous questions zipped through Mello's clouded mind. Mello withdrew his trembling arms from over Matt's shoulders, growing numb to the kisses and bites the red-head was placing on his neck.

The chocolate addict couldn't help but cry out at the friction between his crotch and the young man's knee, but shoved off the pleasure and weakly slid away from Matt on the wet-with-water bathroom floor much like a worm from a bird. His gaze was focused on the gamer, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Once backed up against the bathroom door, Mello choked out the questions: "Who told you? How the hell do you know?" Mello was scared. This shit was not happening again. Why had Matt allowed it? Why hadn't Matt saved him? Why was Matt using his name? Mello choked on a whimper and leaned as far away from Matt as he could.

Fuck.

It was more than likely over, he mused. Matt wasn't going to get laid tonight.

Damn.

He grinned bitterly and stood up, rummaging through the bathroom before stepping closer and kneeling in front of Mello. "You told me. A long time ago. I remember crap like this. When we were kids and naïve, and Kira was not even thought of." He dead-panned, not trying to sound so un-caring of Mello. Matt cared, he really did. But the idea of not getting laid paid a heavy toll on ones mind, especially when you wanted nothing more than to just pound into him. That or die. Either one would be fine by Matt. "My name is Mail, if it helps any." And yeah, that was dangerous or stupid of him. But there wasn't anyone Matt trusted more, so it was okay to literally put his life in Mello's hands.

Matt didn't understand what was going on with Mello. Something bad must have happened. but it was his fault. Mello was the one who left Whammy's. Mello was the one who left Matt again, from his own apartment. You really can't get much lower. And if Mat were to be honest with himself, he doubted Mello would still be here in a week. The ointment was making Matt's hands cold and sticky, but his lips drew into a thin line, lathering on the substance to Mello's face and shoulder. He didn't give a crap about being gentle. Let Mello hurt for once.

They say people hide the memories that cause them the most grief. Wammy's, of course, was one of Mello's main sources of the emotion. Wammy's, and the little albino runt he met there. It wouldn't be hard to believe, he thought, if he really /did/ tell Matt his real name and forgot. Nonetheless, Mello was freaked out. For the second time that day or so. The first... the first began to sink in. The blonde's eyes grew slightly wider in realization of what really happened.

Mello could sense his mind begin to clear up, the ringing in his ears began to fade away. Looking up at Matt, he figured it couldn't be that bad having his best friend knowing _only_ his first name. Hopefully. Visibly relaxing, letting his shoulders slump, Mello took a deep breath. God, this was one screwed up day, or one sick, sick and twisted nightmare. Before long, the genius had drifted off into thought. That is, until the burning sensation of ointment being roughly applied yanked him out of his reveries. He hissed then pathetically slapped Matt's hand away, scowling. -c-

He directed his cold, sapphire colored eyes at the auburnette and narrowed them. Meaning the utmost seriousness, Mello didn't want the gamer to think anything but. "Don't bother with it. I'm going to die any day now.... any moment now. Stop wasting your time." It was said simply enough, just enough to hide the fact the words that escaped the young man's lips scared him beyond belief.

Matt would be oh-so dead tomorrow morning. Mello would laugh at him, and give him a cold calculating sneer. He'd call Matt a gay-wad for even trying to get in Mello's pants. (Or rather lack of pants). He sighed and brought his hand back up to Mello's face, extra gentle this time to remove any excess ointment before going down to the largest shoulder burn and working his magic once more. Matt said and did nothing, keeping his face a mask of annoyed silence and his mouth grim. He was so so tired. And Mello looked comfortable, and Matt wanted to curl up around him and sleep for the rest of his life. He coughed loudly, holding his throat in pain for a moment before wiping both his hands off on his baggy jeans. The cigarettes must be getting to him.

And with Mello's new declaration, Matt glanced up astonished and petrified. No. He would not loose Mello again. Not if he had something to do about it. Matt could only be broken down so many times before he snapped. It didn't need to happen again, and Mello didn't need the living emotional wreck known as Matt following him. "You're no going to die." He rasped, swallowing to get his throat moist again. "It's my time to waste, Mells. And I'll waste it how I want." Matt was scared for Mello. He really wanted to say "Dammit Mello, please don't do this. You can't leave me again." But that would be hormonal, cliched, and it would only serve as further mocking. "I'm not going to let you die." He scooted closer, pressing his nose comfortably into Mello's neck, hoping his trembling couldn't be felt.

Mello weakly laughed. It was snicker, bitter and breathy. He closed his eyes calmly, smirking to himself. "Kira has my name, Matt. Why the hell do you think I blew up that hide out? I was buying myself time before some old man could write my down in the Death Note...." He paused and inclined his head away from Matt. Mello wanted to rip his golden locks from his scalp. He wanted yell and scream at himself. Tell himself that he was stupid, petty, ignorant.... Not worthy of being even /number two/ because of what happened.

The former most of those listed happened. With a moment's notice, his fingers tugged at the strands of blonde hair in head. He grit his teeth in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut even further. "I'm such an _idiot. _He snapped out, his voice laced with self-loathing. "I didn't believe anything could go wrong and.... and..." Another bitter snicker. This one broken, pitiful, in every way depressing. "I can't believe I thought I could get away with it.... So stupid...." He trailed off in a mumble, insulting himself incomprehensibly.

Matt sighed again, drawing Mello into his lap and gently pulling away Mello's fingers and cooing softly in his ear, massaging his hair. Every thing Matt did was comforting. He tried. He really did, for the sake of Mello's sanity, and perhaps even his physical well being. "Mello, you're not an idiot. Stop doing this to yourself. You d-deserve better." Matt laughed to himself.

Better.

Mello deserved better than some shitty apartment with a "best friend" that couldn't even scrounge up enough cash to buy himself a new game or two.

Mello deserved better than the ointment sticking to his skin making it smell like aloe, and he deserved better than whatever Matt could give.

But hey, Matt tried. "You're only hurting yourself, Mello. It's sad. Stop." He practically begged softly, his eyes fluttering close. He should have just killed over a long time ago from starvation or something. But no, his body had to go and "tough it out."

Figures.

Matt didn't know what else to do and mentally punched himself over and over again. "Believe me, you deserve better than what I could offer." And sex. How could Matt think he could deliver better than Mello's professional whores? He was stupid to think differently. He coughed a little again, smoothing down Mello's hair like a mom. Dammit. Matt was sick of himself. "Just relax, Mello. I'll take care of things. You need to heal."

Matt could work.

Even when broken.


	7. Bonding Time

**A/N: **Uhm, so I guess I won't stop this fic after all. I mean, two whole people messaged me and asked to stop! I must be living right. /sarcasm; What I'm trying to say here is that if you want me to continue, I want more reviews. I'm not being stingy or rude, I promise. Even the simple "Good job" shall suffice. Without reviews, I don't write. Without writing, no one gets anymore chapters. Without chapters, I end this fic. Simple. Also, I would like to thank **lightluver **for giving me ideas and being such a wonderful person. This chapter wouldn't be here without you. ^^

**-xXx-**

It had been a few weeks since the bathroom incident, as Matt referred to it, and he still could barely look Mello in the eye. He preferred to stare down at the wounds or the thin cotton sheets whenever he had to fix Mello's face. Matt cringed every time the thin blond would dry out and duck, ready for the blow he knew was coming. It seemed Mello had become a lot more violent in the past months he had been gone. Matt wondered, but never asked, where Mello went. To become so cold again, so heartless, so violent and angry. Mello never thanked him. But that was alright, Matt didn't expect one. He didn't even do a good job, getting Mello's skin infected once because he didn't clean out all the blood. Thankfully, the puss and green liquid oozing from the open wounds on his face where gone now. All that was left, pretty much, was a rough and raw path of criss-crossed skin that Matt felt the need to run his fingers over lightly. Once, he even wanted to bend down and kiss softly at it, but he knew a black eye would come from it and didn't too much like that face.

It wasn't like everything had changed though. They shared kisses now and again, and Mello wasn't always creaming and yelling sorta-almost complimenting the red-head on getting him out of the burning building and into the arms of safety. He wouldn't ever come out and say "thank-you" obviously, but it was okay, Mello decided. Because each time Matt walked away with this dorky grin on his face that made Mello's eyes crinkle at the edges and the ends of his lips to turn up. They'd talk and fight and poke fun at each other. Laugh and be secretly sobbing on the inside together. Love together.

Mello didn't each much though, and this worried Matt. Because a growing boy like him, one that was as badly burned as he was and still not healed all the way needed some sort of nutrition. And the constant bars of chocolate going down his throat would not suffice.

Matt hoisted the kitten known as Milk and placing him in the crook of his elbow. The black and white dotted cat contrasted greatly to the black and red of Matt's strip fetish, and Matt had to look away. Contrasts hurt his eyes.

And in a way, Mello was his main contrast.

Mello. A god. An Angel. Blond, perfect, tan, beautiful. A demon. Imperfect. Scarred. Unclean. Catholic.

Matt idly wondered, while petting the soft downy fur of his precious obsess fluff-ball, if he did really deserve thanks. He hadn't done much. Made Mello's wounds worse, give him a cheap-ass apartment, provide loose and unfitting clothing for him.

But Mello wasn't the only one in pain, dammit. Sure, Mello had burns on most of his face and shoulder and fuck the burns hurt, but Matt hurt too!

His heart was shattered, wrenched from his thin chest, stepped on a few times then politely given back to him. Matt knew once day Mello would leave without telling him, and Matt constantly was prepared to wake up one day without anyone around. Having a heart like his was worse than not having a heart at all.

Matt was also very oblivious. He didn't see how Mello needed him, vied for his attention, cussed and smacked him around to get some sort of attention. Mello was damn addicted to it. He couldn't be left alone without a warning and once, when Matt had left for a period of thirty minutes and forty-five seconds, Mello nearly blew a gasket. He ran around the apartment, tearing it up and searching for his Matty. His Matt. His friend. His secret lover.

Matt had left him, he thought. He left him for some cheap whore who he'd stick around with for about two weeks before drop kicking her in the metaphorical heart.

Really, Mello had no faith in Matt anymore. Actually, Mello had no faith at all. He was alone, in this cruel world. Because who deserved all that he had been through? His "God" had abandoned him, his beauty, his mafia men, and now his fucking best friend.

Matt had gone out for groceries. When he got home, Mello was a whimpering pile of seething hate in the corner of the beaten down couch, glaring hatefully up in Matt's direction when the red head had gotten down on his knees and tried to comfort the blond. He had bit at the offending hand and pushed the bowl of luke-warm Progresso soup away. It was all Matt could afford. That, and some cigarettes, chocolate, and a cheap brand of kitten chow.

Matt sighed and took out a cigarette and just gnawed at the filter on the end, keeping his arms carefully covered and holding back his strong desires to cause physical pain behind an imagined gate. Matt, after a lot of thinking, decided that his desire to inflict pain on himself was to block out the unimaginable emotional stress he went through daily.

"Mello, you have to eat. I bought this…shit for $2.o8 a can. Please, do it for me." He whispered quietly, voice ragged by the constant flow of nicotine and tar. He looked down behind cracked and filmy lens to see Mello staring back up at him. "C'mon, I'll even take the first bite." It was like taking care of a child, he realized with a sudden epiphany that almost had him dropping the spoon and running to call Roger. Slowly, Matt lifted the shaking spoon to his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, wiping the actual sauce from the silver utensil before dragging it out of his mouth. Matt's salivary glands watered, and he wanted more food.

Thank God Mello had given him that list of people's accounts to hack during a lapse of twelve minute consciousness. "See? It was good, Mells. Try a bite."

Matt tried again, handing Mello the spoon and watching him slurp ungainly at the red tomato and water based meal. Matt silently breathed in relief, giving Mello a pick on the forehead as a customary "Hello" before retreating into the kitchen.

Four bowls were laid out before him, all empty and begging for his attention. At each bowl, a small kitten stood looking up at Matt with an array of gold, green, and blue eyes. They all glinted evilly in the half light and Matt, shaken, backed up a step before realizing his mistake.

It was only the light reflecting. "Hello kittens. Hungry?" He asked, getting down on his knees and dragging the overly heavy bag of chow and filling each bowl to the brim and over. This should hold them off for a few days, and Matt could live with himself if one of them killed over and died. He fed them; he would tell anyone who asked. It must have been a disease from being in that shelter.

Each kitten pounced at their bowls, mewling sharply and burrowing their faces in the hard food, munching as if their last meal was a few days ago. Again, with another epiphany, Matt realized it had been some time since their last meal.

Feeling sick and quite guilty with himself, Matt made his way back to Mello, wanting to curl around the thin blond and sleep again. It was a wonder Matt did anything else these days.

Wires and metal cans of empty Red Bull lay in his wake, being shoved out of the way by a booted foot and not even the sight of the glowing Wii in the background could drag his mind away from spending "quality time" with Mello.

"Mello." He sang, sitting behind the still seething blond and nuzzling into the soft flesh of his un-burnt neck. Mello stiffened then relaxed against him, giving a small sigh and pushing his clean bowl away. Damn, he was hungrier than he thought. "Matt, you left me." "Sorry, Mello. Didn't meant to scare you." Matt snickered into the warm skin and sighing happily. "'M not scared." Mello mumbled angrily, crossing his arms over his chest in a display of utter girlyness. Matt smirked at the thought and drug his lips down Mello's throat before kissing it softly. "….I gotta talk to you about something." He whispered, letting his eyes stare at the floor like he always did, not meeting the blonde's eyes.

"I-I didn't mean for that to happen. I mean, I didn't mean to like, rape you or anything. It was just that, like, you were back and I was happy and mad and sad and you were naked and powerless, and all on my lap. And I was finally in charge and-" Matt was rambling. Mello smirked and decided he'd let Matt panic for a little while before speaking. Mello didn't even blame him for doing what he did. Hell, he enjoyed it. The blond hated himself for even stopping it and having a freaking panic attack all over the place. Over his fucking name. How retarded.

Mello let his head loll back into Matt's shoulder and stared at the ceiling before letting his gaze drift to the kittens. Cocoa, Mello's personal favorite, stared at him, blinked, then promptly propelled herself forward, small head colliding into Mello's thigh. Mewling pathetically, almost drowned out by the sound of Matt's frantic explaining, Mello smirked again letting his now loose arms uncross and pick up the kitten.

Cocoa purred and nuzzled into Mello's leather gloves he still insisted on keeping on, eyes closing in a sweet kind of trust that Mello would launch the fur ball across the apartment like his very own kitten bullet. He didn't.

Matt was still rambling, Mello noticed, turning his head back around to stare at the red-head and wonder how in hell that boy could talk so long. How he had so many damn excuses, and how he could talk so long without breathing. Mello growled and lifted a hand, slapping it onto Matt's lips, smirking at the surprised squeak. Cocoa leaped off his hand rather unamused at the lack of attention and pounced on Dusty happily. Dusty was much more entertaining than Mello, it seemed.

"Jesus fuck, Matt. I forgive you. Just stop talking, alright?" Mello never thought he'd have to tell Matt to stop talking. Matt. The one who never talked. The one who teachers had to make answer questions. The one who didn't have any other real friends besides Mello himself. This made Mello grin, felling rather proud and mighty next to his lowly "pet". Because really, that's all Matt was.

"I didn't mind it al that much. I uh, didn't mean to have a bitch fit all over the damn bathroom. It's not so bad, but you got me on the blind side." You never spoke Mello's real name unless it was a dire emergency and the Mihael himself had said you could.

"I-I know, Mello. I just wanted to know what was going to happen." He said quietly, feeling Mello's hand move from his mouth to cup his cheek. Matt sighed, gladly sinking into the familiar and comforting gesture. "I missed you, you know. The hell did you leave for anyway?" Oh, that bit about not asking Mello? Yeah, Matt decided against it. And now was the perfect time to ask.

"None of your damn business."

"It is so my damn business."

"Is not."

"Is to."

"Is not!"

"Is t-" Matt was cut off rather abruptly by a furious mouth covering his own. They had fought again like children. It made him grin sadly at the nostalgic feelings. At Wammy's he'd had it so good. Mello liked him, Kira wasn't round, L was alive, he didn't fight constantly for his life, Mello was burnt.

Things were never stressful, unless you had a test coming up and even then, Matt would trade almost anything in the world to get back tht low-level of stress again. Now, he could hardly sleep and leave the room without Mello calling him back and demanding why he was leaving. Or why he needed a shower. Or why they'd run out of groceries, because hadn't they just fucking got some?

But Mello wasn't stupid. Mello knew Matt left to get away from him. Away from the kittens, and the shitty apartment he had to call his own. Mello didn't blame him.

A warm tongue slowly ran across Matt's bottom lip, causing him to squirm and greedily open his mouth to take in the writihng muscle, sucking on it like no other mother.

His own tongue swirled around the hot plaything, groaning softly and pressing his lips harder against Mello's wanting some more. More, more, more. These thoughts were the only thing circulating in his foggy mind but Matt didn't seem to much mind. Mello always did this to him, no matter how much Matt didn't want it to. It was like, a natural instinct. To get flustered and amazed by Mello. Three pathetic points for Matt.

Mello drank in the intoxicating sounds Mello made and ground his hips into Matt's smirking at the hoarse cry he received. Matt was grinding against him, hands clenched tightly in his blond hair, eyes closed and mouth sucking at him like a fucking whore.

Mello decided he loved it.

Matt pulled away, shuddering, leaning down and placing hungry kisses all along Mello's unburnt neck, licking at the skin to soften it before biting down and sucking harshly. He would leave his damn mark and make Mello wear it around the apartment, signifying the feisty blond did indeed belong to him. A dark purple bruise was left and Matt kissed it gently before trailing his dark red, bruised, and saliva covered lips back up to Mello's face. He kissed the sharp cheekbones, sighing in content and brushing them against Mello's own abused lips.

They locked again, each shoving their tongues in each other's mouth, causing for a very wet, very loud, very obscene make-out session. Matt whimpered and pulled away. He couldn't take much more and neither could his dick. "S-Stop, Mello. I don't wanna go there." He whispered and hide himself in Mello's neck to maybe make Mello have pity.

He didn't. "The fuck, man?! You're just going to leave me like this and say 'Oh, No, I don't wanna.'" Mello paused for a breath of air and growled. "I don't fucking think so. Get on your knees and do your job, okay? I'll let you sleep in the bed with me if you do." A very tempting offer indeed. Mat loved to sleep near Mello, curled up around him and warm. Mello did too, but had to keep his façade up for a little while longer. He'd promised himself not to let Matt see him anymore weak or broken. Matt had been through fucking enough, and Mello didn't think his heart could take it.

Matt sighed and did as he was told, pulling himself away from the smoldering warmth Mello gave him and shivering as the cold apartment air hit him. Dammit, Mello had better keep his promise.

Matt fumbled with the taut cords on Mello's pants with shaking fingers, his breathing labored and his goggles fogged up. Why in hell he still had them on was beyond his sluggish mind.

The gaudy belt fell away with a loud clunk and the leather whispered together as the thin strings fell away and rubbed against each other.

"Use your mouth, bitch."

So, it was going to me mouth-fucking? Matt had just thought a simple handjob. Damn, he was better with his fingers than his tongue. Matt nodded and leaned down, tilting his head to the side and enveloping Mello's dick in his hot orifice.

Mello groaned loudly and bucked up instantly, causing Matt to cough and his throat walls tightening around Mello. Matt whimpered and circled the head with his tongue before pulling away slowly, letting his hot saliva coat the hard organ. His tongue flicked his head before running over the under-side of Mello's cock and end up his small escapade with the organ promptly shoved down his throat.

Delicious.

Mello thrust in and jerked out, keeping himself in check and in charge, half lidded eyes on the small teenager-man below him. Matt's eyes were closed and he was sucking on Mello's cock like he used to suck on those cigarettes on boring, rainy days. Mello's hips arched and he came all in Matt's throat, causing the boy to pull away and choke, wiping at his mouth and swallowing whatever he could.

Matt smiled weakly and let his head fall on Mello's open abdomen, kissing the jutting hip-bones delicately, letting Mello's breathing even out. "Alright, Matt. You're a fucking God with that tongue. I'll allow you to sleep with me." Matt snickered breathlessly, coughing a bit before sitting up.

"Thanks Mello, though I'm pretty sure I don't need your permission."

Mello smirked.

Matt was always damn right.


End file.
